Well, once again, humanity reminds me of the vulnerable and imperfect being which I am.
It was a dream. Just a simple dream, always is. Whether your 4 or 12 or 21 or in you childhood crib or big girl bed or college dorm… or I guess even in the upper bunk of a multi-bed room in Sunnyvale New Zealand. Any time, any place… it is completely.. and totally humiliating.
So why then? Why note it? Why not send it to the back crevices of the memories better left untouched or unremembered. The hidden cracks you sometimes accidently think of, but then hurriedly recover with dust.. those memories… because it was an unexpected situation that reminded me once again to come back down to earth.. and at the same time brought me mirth and thanks. Humility. Both a curse and a gift.
One second, I am fast asleep. Packing, packing in my room at home. But it isn’t my room is it? No. It’s a mixture, a mixture between my sister’s room, my bed room at home, my apartment bed room, and a typical kid’s room in an ABC Family TV show. The room, strangely enough, is in my best friend’s boyfriend’s house? Why? (and I’ve only been there once, no clue, but the layout is the same). I go up to pack and do not want to go back down and talk to her, Kelsey (my home best friend), because I am sad to be leaving.
I open a drawer and suddenly have to pee. That simple, I have to pee. But, since it’s a dream, I somehow think it’s a GOOD IDEA, to just stick my bare naked butt over the drawer and pee there. Yea, because in real life that would be fine? No! Never! Yet here I am thinking it is real life and thinking peeing in the drawer is a GOOD IDEA! God. I may as well be four.
WTF!?
Remember thinking of the things in the drawer, Apples to Apples, my sister’s underwear?.. all things that would never REALLY be in MY bedroom drawer anyway… and thinking, “O well, I won’t have to clean it up, I’ll be in new Zealand (something I would never think, especially when peeing in someone’s drawer).
Suddenly, I am very wet. Wet. And. Cold. Damit!!! Not again!! I’m 21 freaking years old!! What the hell : (. I’m too old for this bull shit, why did I pee in that stupid drawer and not wake up!? OOOOOO soo embarrassing.
I’m suddenly back in my purple butterfly PJ’s standing at my Mom and Dad’s door in tears because I am a big girl now and not supposed to wet the bed.
Then I’m 16, crawling in bed with my mom and freaking out I have a problem, and well, “what am I supposed to do if I ever stay with a boy and that happens!?”
Then 19, 4 am, roommate hates my guts… and I am hauling all my bedding to the basement laundry room from my top floor dorm room…
Now. 21. In Sunnyvale New Zealand. Sharing a room a room with a 32 year old Chilean man I have only known for two days and who barely speaks any English (thank god he was in the bunk on the opposite side of the room and not the one under me). Wearing my last set of clean spandex half tights and underarmer shirt for my run that morning… and I
Wet the bed.
Great.
Not cool at all.. how the hell am I supposed to hide this one?
Cursing myself out in my head, I quietly attempt to sneak out of bed. Grab all the bed clothes, and haul them to the washer at the opposite end of the house. I drop them straight in, go into the rest room.. which, mind you.. is just a toilet room (for some reason in New Zealand they keep the toilet in a separate room from the shower and sink.. no clue why).
Now naked, I creep back out into the haul.. shit.. of course, someone is sleeping on the pillows behind the table..in a house full of 20 people, adding and dropping individuals everyday, I should have expected this.
I tiptoe run, naked, to the other half of the rest room and SHUT THE DOOR. Of course, only towel left in there from the laundry is only a hand towel. Awesome, that covers.. well.. one leg.
I creep back into the room, throw on a black underarmer shirt and top (first thing I saw.. now I look like a bad attempt at sporty cat women…) and start trying to mop up the bed. I sneak back out for hand-towels and carpet cleaner (best thing I could find) and am just about to try and take the mattress off.. trying to conjure up an alternate explanation of why my mattress is wet and outside when everyone wakes up… when I hear.. Leo.. shit.
“Wha.. What are you doing?” He asks half awake in broken English..
“Umm..well..umm..I uhh spilled something on my bed..” I stammer.
“you what? You spill so-thing? What?”
“Umm.. my bed.. is wet..”
“Wet! You bed is wet? Why? Why you bed wet?”
“Umm, well.. it’s really embaressing actually.. I uhh.. well..”
Leo was getting out of bed.. he turned the light on and stared at me.. shirtless and wide eyed.
“You (he pointed at me) “Pee pee? Pee in your bed? Like (he puts his hand low to the ground in representation of a little kid.”
I hang my head, cheeks flushed and eyes brimming with tears. “Yes.”
Leo starts to laugh.
Tears fall unceremoniously down my cheeks. Great. Now I am a bed wetter and a crier. I may as well be 4.
“Is ok. Is fine. We will fix this. Yes? We will move this. Yes.”
“This is so embarrassing! This isn’t normal. I don’t normally do this. I feel like a little kid.”
“No no no.. is normal. You sleep (he hand mimes his head resting on flat hands and) and is possible you think ‘du du du’ (he mimes fingers walking) a toilet y es solo un you sleep.. es normal. Me do same thing.. me small (mimiks child again) but.. same thing. We fix it. Is no problem.”
“Thank you. I am really sorry I woke you up.”
“Es no problem.”
Leo starts moving the mattress from under his top bunk at the opposite side of the room, while I asses mines damage. Great. Due to the thin ancient mattress, the pee soaked all the way through and was dripping down on the mattress below. (Thank you God that no one was sleeping there).
We move the mattress off the bed and put it on the other side. I am worried the wet part will touch Leo and try desperately to avoid such an occurrence, but he acts like it’s nothing. (Thank you for letting it be him in my room and not someone more judgmental).
“We just flip mattress over?” Leo asks me after the top one is moved and we move on to the lower one.
“Ok, but first..” I dunk the wet spot in carpet cleaner and mop it with a towel. “ Thank you Leo. I am really sorry I woke you. Thank you for helping me. It is really embarrassing..”
“Es no problem.” He mimics keeping quite by putting a finger to his mouth and making the “shuu” sound. I smile in spite of myself.
Leo crosses to the desk and starts rummaging in his drawer. “what is the time?”
“6:00”
“6:00!? You go to sleep?”
“No, no I am going to go for a run.”
“You run!? A 6:00!? Nooo..”
“Yea.. yea I need to run.. I am all strung up.. stressed.. (I mimic frustration). Plus, I like running early in the morning.” I had actually intended to wake up at 6 am to run anyway. Waking up with a pee butt at 5:10 wasn’t in the plans.
“Chocolate?” Finding what he was looking for, Leo breaks off a peace of nut embedded white chocolate and hands me a peace.
As embarrassing as wetting the bed at 21 is, these situations remind me of the crazy paths life can take, the compassion of other people, and the humility I have in myself.
Never had I anticipated standing in a room in New Zealand, wearing an underarmore spandex suit, and eating white chocolate at 6 am with a Chilean man after having just wet the bed…
Why do I admit to this story.. because it is a story. That’s why.
Hitch Hike Numero Uno:
Soo I finally did it. I hitch hiked.. I mean for real… a guy just didn’t pick me up walking aimlessly down the street in texas.. naw. Not this time. This time I was in New Zealand.. still aimlessly walking down the street, but this time with full intention of “hitching.”
And.. well.. it worked!!!
Mind you, hitch hiking is much much safer than in the United States and is totally legal in New Zealand. Still. I was very apprehensive. I think it took me a good mile or so before I got up the nerve to stick my thumb out, then in another five minutes I managed to stick out my arm.
Ten minutes later, a very large, very very large Maori man driving a small white van with a mentally handicapped man in the passenger seat picked me up.
It wasn’t my intention to hitch hike that day. Actually, I only wanted to pick up a package at the currior post office. Tarren, the owner and runner of the Fruit Vans house, told me that the street was one of the main streets in Auckdale and the post office should be relitivly close to the train stop. Ingerantly, I assumed this was correct and presumptuously showed up in Auckdale with only an address. Right off the train I asked the large Maori high school boy if he knew where the street was.
“Rosedale? Sure just turn right at the round about and go on till you hit the light and turn left.”
I was supposed to make dinner at the house that night with Angela, the other American girl, and wanted to be home by 5:00. I thought I could slip in and out of the surrior post, check my internet real fast, and even maybe get some peanut butter pie ingredients before catching the 4:40 train home. It sounded like it should work…. Right? WRONG!
I found Rosedale street easy enough and started wondering down it. It was just a regular road along a highway; at first there weren’t really even busnesses along it. Confused, I kept walking. My address said 729 for the house number, and homes around me read numbers only in the 200’s. I asked some Indian people in a Suprett (that’s what they call mini grocery stores around here), and an old women on the street and both told me to keep walking to the end of the road. Turns out Rosedale street is a very very very loooooong road. About a half hour later, I started considering taking a bus! I was only in the 400’s and had already been walking for over 30 minutes! It wouldn’t have been a big deal if I wasn’t supposed to make dinner that night, but since I was I felt bad leaving Ang.
By the time I finally reached the Courier it was 5:00 and getting dark. Luckily I was able to get my package, bank card from me daddy J, but sadly was at a loss for how to get home. Option one, walk another hour back to the train, option two wait a half hour for the very nice lady at the desk to get off work and take me home, option three try to catch the bus, and option four hitch hike. I decided on three, the lady told me if I was still at the bus stop when she drove by she would take me home (Kiwi people are soo nice).
Of course, when I reached the bus stop at 5:15 the bus had already passed at 5:08.. great. The next bus wasn’t due until 7:15 so I decided, what the hell, let’s be brave and hitch hike. I slowly started wondering down the road, then made my way from the side walk to brim, then slowly stuck my thumb out, then finally extended the arm. I felt soo soo awkward, alone, purple sweater, wondering down the street with my thumb out.. ugh. It felt like forever and it felt like everyone was starring at me.
Finally after, what was actually only about 10 minutes, a small white van pulled over. I jogged up to it and the biggest Maori man I have ever seen and a mentally handicapped man greeted me warmly. “Where abouts are you headed?” asked the Maori gentleman.
I told him I had come by train from Sunnyvale but the town center would be great. Turns out he was actually going to New Lynn, two stops closer than from where I came and could drop me directly at the train station! Perfect!!
We chatted happily about the U.S. and places to visit in New Zealand and the Rugby World cup coming in the next few months. Turns out the Maori man worked for a mentally handicapped home and was taking the other man out for some fresh air and a burger. It was actually quite a pleasant experience and I made it home by 6:00.
Though I hate vulnerability and compromising situations, I am now unafraid of hitch hiking (well in New Zealand at least.. and with caution). Have to learn from vulnerability I guess.. and well it makes a good story!
Plus, I was able to help with dinner!
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